


Flowers for Professor

by lusteralliance (orphan_account)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Flowers, GATEKEEPER YOU DESERVE EVERYTHING, I wrote this on the plane, Love Confessions, M/M, THIS HURT SO BAD TO WRITE, YOU DESERVED HIS LOVE....., gatekeeper- photosynthesizes, idk what to do for the summary so uhhhhhh, is short too, sun metaphor sun metaphor sun metapho, this became really sad, two tags for gatekeeper so idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 18:55:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20196460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lusteralliance
Summary: If he were a flower, then surely the professor would be the sun.





	Flowers for Professor

**Author's Note:**

> h....gatekeeper..ilysm....romanceable dlc when

He always came at sunrise to start the day, and it was at sunset that he left the monastery for the night.

It seemed to the gatekeeper that he was the sun; coming with the light and leaving dusk in his wake. There was an otherworldly air about him, too. He was something else.

The gatekeeper was tired of watching him come and go with nothing to report. The professor was a busy man, the gatekeeper was sure; he shouldn't be bothered with meager babblings, which were surely to come if the gatekeeper was left to his own devices.

"Greetings, Professor! Nothing to report." This was a shield, a facade. It was the tinkling of an old wind up toy, a repetition of little heart, an instinct, when the gatekeeper couldn't gather his wits quickly enough. Of course there was something for him to report. There always was.

The professor would smile and say hello, and sometimes, he would come in the middle of the day to visit. He was kind, and he was warm. The gatekeeper often wondered what his hand felt like to hold, if it were as rejuvenating as his gaze, his breath in the winter as it left his lips as a wisp of cloud, then disappeared into thin air as nothing.

The academic year was coming to an end, and the sun rose earlier. The gatekeeper shuffled his feet in the budding wildflowers he stood among, light touching the horizon. The professor was coming soon.

When the gatekeeper saw his silhouette as he walked up the great stone steps of the monastery, his knees felt weak; he would have no more chances.

He plucked a handful of the early morning blossoms, dew glistening on their nodding heads, and he straightened back up as the professor arrived.

"Hello, Gatekeeper," he smiled. His smile was the sun, if he himself was not. It brought a golden warmth to every part of the gatekeeper's body and chased away the dawn chill like a cat does a mouse.

"Greetings, Professor," the gatekeeper began. He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart both yearning and yielding, frightened and flustered. He held up his little bouquet of wildflowers, blurting out, "N-Nothing to report! Except—except my love for you!"

The professor did not speak. The gatekeeper chanced a look at him, and saw that he was staring at the flowers, his lovely blue eyes wide. The gatekeeper felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach.

Then, the professor placed his books under his arm and smiled again, softer now, and he cupped his hands over the gatekeeper's. His fingers were careful and delicate, and of course, warm.

"Thank you, Gatekeeper," he murmured. He did not express his love back, at least not with words. But he stretched up and placed a gentle kiss on the gatekeeper's cheek, then accepted the flowers. He smelled them, and he blushed, and he looked back up at the gatekeeper for a heartbeat before disappearing into the grand arches of the monastery.

To the gatekeeper, the sun set before it rose.

According to those at the greenhouse, the gatekeeper's flowers were forget-me-nots. They sat in the professor's little vase for as long as they could manage, and when they started to tire, he pressed them in his book. This way, they could live forever with him.

Footsteps on the stairs. They woke the gatekeeper. He was lying against a pile of rubble, his helmet dented and abandoned in the singed grass beside him.

He pried his eyes open. They were almost blind, and they stung from the smoke and ash. His heart hurt every time it beat, and his legs were numb.

How long had he been here?

There was someone walking up to him, a book in his left hand.

The sun was rising over a desolate horizon. It came to him, knelt down before him. Its fingers stroked his face, its sleeve tried to dry the blood that came from the wound on his head.

"...Pro…Professor…."

"It's all right," he whispered. He helped the gatekeeper to sit up, and when he couldn't on his own, the professor let him lie against his shoulder.

"Professor…" The tears stung his eyes even more. "I...I failed…."

The professor placed his book in the grass and gently pried the rusty, broken armor away from the gatekeeper's bloody abdomen. The hilt of a spear prevented him from freeing him completely, plunged deep into the gatekeeper's body, metal on metal, steel in flesh.

"Everything's all right, now," the professor told him softly. "Everything's okay."

The gatekeeper let out a weak sob. "I...I let them in...I let them pass...I ruined everything…."

The professor stroked his hair and kissed his forehead, to calm him as he died. 

"Gatekeeper...I have something for you." He reached for his book and opened it up, and he slipped out a tiny bouquet of pressed wildflowers. The gatekeeper remembered it well.

"Many years ago, my students told me they were forget-me-nots." The professor placed the delicate flowers into the gatekeeper's trembling hand, and closed it with his gentle fingers. "They were so precious to me...I never forgot you, just as you asked."

The gatekeeper's breaths whistled in his lungs. He was hurting, and every gasp was another battle, and he was losing. But the pain was not as intense when he felt the vibrations of the professor's voice in his chest. A soothing tempo, a rhythm of life. Of safety, of warmth.

"I only ask now that you don't forget me. And perhaps, when we meet again, you can give them back," the professor requested quietly. "I would love to receive them from you again."

The gatekeeper's eyes closed, and he felt the professor's fingertips run along his face as he started to hum. The gatekeeper held onto the flowers, his flowers, for dear life. The sun was rising, bringing a new day. The night was over now.

"Will...will...stay…?"

The professor placed another kiss on the gatekeeper's torn eyelid.

"I will stay as long as you need...and even when you sleep, and the earth claims you as her own, I will stay."

It was in the sun's gentle embrace that the gatekeeper's final breath became wind.


End file.
